Why Can't They See?
by Zerabell Blackborn
Summary: Just a little drabble, an experiment on viewpoints and individuality. Do you agree with me? Complete unless I’m feeling shaky in my understanding of the characters
1. Part One: Similarities

_**Author's Note: **_Just a little drabble, a character study if you will, to help me understand the different viewpoints of our lovable motley crew. Un-beta-ed for you viewing confusion; enjoy.

**_Disclaimer:_** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, Hitokiri Kenshin, or any Kenshin in between.

* * *

**Why Can't They See?**

_Part One: Similarities_

At the gate Yahiko and Sano waited in silence, but it was the red-head before her that drew her attention.

There was a slight thickness to the air around him as he stood there. It was depression, desperation, and determination. She almost moaned with the recognition. Great, she thought, she had to deal with a guild-ridden rounin who was about to inform her that he was leaving. Again. And this time he was taking the members of her make-shift family. She made sure a sweet and innocent smile masked her true emotions and thoughts. She wasn't supposed to be intelligent enough to recognize that look of his. She was the sweet and naive kenjutsu instructor. A foolish little girl to innocent to know the dangers and hardships of the world around her.

Right. And that's why she trained every day with a sword in her hand. Alright, a bokken. But it was just as effective as a sword. Even more so, as her techniques could be applied with the result of a wounded but still very much alive opponent. An enemy who would be forced to heel through law, forced to make amends.

So she taught a style who's basic philosophy was 'a sword that protects life'. That did not mean she had no understanding of why men took up swords. Why there was war. No, she understood the desperation and fear that enabled slaughter. She understood it well.

Swords were created to protect people. Her style followed this. Swords were created to defend beliefs. Her style followed this. Swords were created to enforce, to kill when needed. Her style had a specialized technique for this.

Kenshin wore a reversed-blade sword on his hip, and he would kill only when forced with no other options. Kaoru had a wooden sword at her call, and she would kill only when forced with no other options.

Why did they think her weak?

Why could they not see that she was a warrior? Why must she always be pushed away? Why was she always left behind to watch her family leave on a mission that was to defend Japan? If only they would allow her to help, to truly help…

Why could he not see that they were alike?


	2. Part Two: Differences

**_Author's Note:_** Well, nobody asked for this but here it is non-the-less. _Still_ un-beta-ed as I'm trying to keep my one and only volunteer happy and relatively work-free.

**_Disclaimer:_** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, Hitokiri Kenshin, or any Kenshin in between.

* * *

**Why Can't They See?**

_Part Two: Differences_

Behind him Sano and Yahiko waited at the gate, but it was the young kenjutsu instructor before him that drew all his attention.

He could see the tension which dispelled the natural grace he admired. He could see the slight furrowing of the pale brow. But there was a smile. That beautiful smile that told the world light had defeated shadow. All would be well. As well as it could be. He smiled in return, smiled through his guilt and sadness. He couldn't let her see them. They were emotions better left bottled up, far removed from the joyful innocence she possessed. He stood before her trying to find the words that always eluded him when she was near. What could he say, now, at this point anyway? Nothing would ever make up for what he was about to do. For what he might do. For what he done.

His hands were stained. Blood that he could never seem to wash away coated his hands and incased his soul. He was guilty of so many sins. He was a murderer. It mattered not that he had answered the call of his country, mattered not to him that he had followed his beliefs. He was still guilty. Dirty. Impure. Unfit.

They were so different, polar opposites. He learned to kill, excelled in murder, and was rightfully feared for his past. He was filled with grief, guilt, doubt and so many other emotions that weighted his soul and tainted any hope to be found. She was taught to cherish life, was raised to follow a foolish and naïve philosophy that she could wield a weapon without bloodshed. She was loved and cared for, whole, able to love and forgive.

He had made a vow to never take another life, but had come close on many occasions to breaking it. He was dangerous even though he tried to live another life, even though he tried to deny what was lurking within. He would do nothing but shatter her idealized view of the world, could do nothing but bring pain and hardship.

Why did they look at him with trust and love?

Why could they not see he was a direct threat to their safety? Why must he always be forced to remind them? Why couldn't they just leave him alone, let him run far and fast to save them? And now he was leaving, with people who call him friend. He was taking away those she cherished most, placing them in harm's way, when she had done everything she could to keep them.

Why could she still not open her eyes to their differences?


End file.
